


The Small Things

by heeroluva



Category: Star Trek (2009), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: 5 Things, Christmas, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, K/S Advent Calendar, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-19
Updated: 2011-05-19
Packaged: 2017-10-19 14:08:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/201705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heeroluva/pseuds/heeroluva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock shows Jim that maybe Christmas isn't so bad after all over the course of their voyage.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Small Things

_First Christmas Aboard the Enterprise_

Spock did not understand the Earth-born obsession that the crew (both human and not) had with an odd holiday called Christmas. During his years on Earth, he’d observed the festivities with his usual detached curiosity, always as an outsider looking in, never taking part. The decorations were both garish and impractical. The concept of celebrating one’s birth was mostly foreign to him. His mother had tried to instill the importance of such a date into him, but he hadn’t understood the logic behind celebrating something so insignificant. His father, who often humored her, had also frowned upon it. There was no rite of passage or otherwise notable accomplishment connected to one’s date of birth.

While that concept was an odd one, the idea that humans would celebrate the birth of an idol was even stranger. Upon the discovery of life on other planets, the organized religions of Earth had fallen apart and with their decline, the faith in such histories and scriptures had dwindled. Further research had yielded evidence that the holiday wasn’t even the true birthdate of the man so long worshipped as the son of a god, but instead an ancient holiday that the Roman Catholic Church had claimed for itself to better entice the barbaric pagans of the olden days to convert.

It was completely illogical for humans to celebrate a holiday based on lies which were part of a mostly dead religion. But then he had never claimed most humans to be logical, so he couldn’t truly fault them on the fallacy of their actions and beliefs.

Spock observed with distaste the gifting of pointless material, items that would sit on shelves and collect dust without holding proper value. While his race had no true objection to gift-giving, the giving of material goods was often frowned upon, and was truly only done at important points in an individual’s life, typically limited to items that would facilitate learning. The idea that the gifts were usually surprises as well was another difficult concept to understand – logically, it would be better to have prior knowledge of the item being received to ensure a more appropriate fit or to better plan its use.

It was Spock’s current position in the mess hall that had brought about such musings. His plan had been to avoid this area until all the festive carousing was over, but there was an important matter regarding the sample of biologicals from their last planet visit that he needed to discuss with the captain. Unfortunately, it seemed that Jim had decided to shut off his communicator and leave it behind so that there was no way of tracking him. Spock had calculated the odds of the captain being in the mist of the boisterous holiday crowd to be well over ninety percent. As such he was surprised when he entered the room only to find no sign of him.

He did a quick, futile search of the captain’s usual hang-outs and even tried the man’s quarters but received no response. Thinking that perhaps when he’d checked the mess hall, the man may simply not have had arrived yet or may have had stepped out briefly, Spock returned only to find there was still a distinct lack of the captain. Deciding that his target had to turn up sooner or later, he had settled down to wait for him. A few brave souls had ventured his way with brightly colored packages in hand, but all had scurried off after a long, hard stare.

Time passed, and eventually most of the crew had stumbled out drunkenly (a fact that Spock was trying hard not to notice), and the mess hall was nearly empty. In fact a surprisingly sober Doctor McCoy and a few Ensigns were the only ones left. Spock watched as they straightened the furniture and picked up stray scraps of multicolored paper to dispose of. The doctor glanced his way and uttered a few brief words to the others who all made a hasty exit.

McCoy grabbed something from the replicator on the wall and walked towards him, offering him a drink. Spock accepted it and took a small sip, nodding in thanks. McCoy set his own drink down on the table before spinning a chair around to straddle it. Spock flinched internally at the display of bad manners, but outwardly just raised a brow.

“So Spock, I assume you weren’t here for the entertainment.”

“You are correct. I was searching for the captain, and as I was unable to find him anywhere else, I calculated that he would be here, but seem to have been wrong.” The slight down-turn of Spock’s lips was the only hint to his annoyance.

McCoy seemed especially somber as he replied, “Well, any other day, any other party, you’d have been right but not this one. You had no way of knowing.”

Spock stayed silent, waiting for him to continue.

“Jim hates Christmas with a passion. And you’ve seen firsthand how passionate he can be about things. This is no exception. He’s probably hiding away in one of the Jefferies tubes with some old paper books and a bottle of hard liquor. He’ll come crawling to me in the morning with a horrible hangover, wanting a hypo to fix it, and then convince everyone else that his absence was due to some terribly important call that he couldn’t miss. He won’t expound on it and everyone will assume it was his family.” McCoy sighed while running his hands through his hair and took a drink before fiddling with the cup, looking unsure. “Jim probably won’t appreciate me telling you this, but I doubt you’d ever get it out of him – it took enough alcohol in him that I was worried he would have to have his stomach pumped before he was willing to talk about it.”

Spock looked vaguely intrigued.

“Before that night he’d just say cryptic things like Christmas was a silly holiday that owed its sustained existence to department stores that banked on its continuation, or that it was a way to make people that were down on hard times feel even worse because they felt guilty about not being able to spend more. He even jokingly referred to himself as Ebenezer Scrooge.” At Spock’s confused look, he hurried to explain. “A fictional character in _The Christmas Carol_ by Charles Dickens about a cold, greedy man who hated Christmas and all things that brought happiness.”

Spock objected, “That does not sound like the captain at all.”

McCoy laughed. “I’m sure he was only using the comparison to emphasize his hatred for the holiday. But back to the original point. He told me that when he was a child, his mother had a hard time making ends meet. She may now be a famous engineer, but at the time she was still reeling from her husband’s death and trying to find herself again. The first Christmas he remembers, it was really cold because she didn’t have enough money to pay the heating bill that month, and the warmth from the wood burning stove didn’t reach his room. So he thought he would help out by starting a fire. He was a smart child, but the fire wasn’t properly contained and by the time he realized it, it was too late. The house was a lost cause and the smoke almost killed his brother.”

Spock started at that. “I wasn’t aware the captain had a brother. It is not in his file.”

McCoy grinned because only Spock would have the crew’s files memorized. “That’s intentional. Being who he is and in the position he’s in, Jim has a great many enemies. It’s for his brother’s protection. Jim is also estranged from his brother. Apparently, after that first Christmas, something always went wrong. It was like he was cursed. After the third Christmas that their mother missed, his brother ran away from home on Christmas leaving him alone with an uncaring stepfather. Jim never forgave him for that. And after that he swore to always be alone for the holiday because if he was alone, he couldn’t screw it up.”

Spock did not agree. “That is illogical. Being by one’s self does not lower the chance of being hurt.”

“Well, you’ve never accused him of being logical. And I don’t think he’s worried so much about being hurt himself as he is concerned with hurting others. He connects the idea of Christmas with being a burden.”

Spock opened his mouth to protest, but McCoy interrupted him. “Yes, I know that is illogical, but that is the way of things. I’ve never seen Jim run so fast as the one time I tried to give him a Christmas present. He just doesn’t understand that Christmas is a time of giving. And I’m not talking about actual physical presents because those are often over-done. It’s the thought that counts, the small actions and words. Jim doesn’t understand how much the crew loves him and just want to thanks him. And damned if I don’t sound like some cheesy advertisement. But it’s getting late and these old bones can’t run on caffeine like so many of the young ones do. Merry Christmas Spock.”

McCoy left his half empty cup as he exited the room, and Spock was left with much to think about.

 

 _Second Christmas Aboard the Enterprise_

By the time the second Christmas on their five year tour rolled around, Spock had a PADD with an outline full of bulleted points and counter-points to any argument the captain might present against Christmas. But once again the captain made himself scarce. The Jefferies tubes were uncomfortably cool to him, but according to Dr. McCoy, they were the logical place to begin his search. The corridors that were farthest away from the crew’s gathering and the least likely to be used were surprisingly empty. During his carefully patterned search of the ship’s various sections, he eventually passed his own quarters and a low, rhythmic sound drew his attention. It was quiet enough that the humans aboard would not have been able to detect it, but due to his Vulcan heritage his senses were by far sharper and able to pick up many things that were beyond their audible range.

Curious, he tried to determine what the sound was, but it wasn’t distinct enough to stipulate a hypothesis. Having calculated that it was unlikely for the captain to be in this part of the ship due to its closeness to the crew, Spock wondered if he may have misjudged. Spock backtracked to the nearest Jefferies tube entrance and noticed that the sound got slightly louder as he approached. Opening the hatch he was greeted by what sounded like Christmas music. Making his way towards the origin of the sound he was surprised to see Jim curled up around a bottle of whiskey as an antique music player looped a variety Christmas music.

Having observed in the past how the captain was likely to behave after having imbibed large quantities of alcohol, Spock knew that now was not the time to confront the man about anything, much less a topic uncomfortable to the captain. Spock was well aware that all of his carefully planned arguments would be useless against the insanity Jim could put out.

Deciding to leave the matter for another time, Spock returned to his quarters and prepared for bed. A nagging feeling would not leave him be as he tried to settle into a meditative state, so he did what was logical and for the time being, gave up and went to confront the source of his agitation. Grabbing a heavy blanket and a hypo meant to specifically for hangovers that he’d confiscated from a wayward Ensign, he made his way back to the tube and found Jim in much the same position as he had left him.

Careful not to disturb him, Spock pulled the mostly empty bottle from the captain’s loose grip and laid the blanket out over him, tucking the edges in securely around the captain’s shoulders as he remembered his mother doing for him as a child. He set the hypo down on the music player so it was easily noticeable and whispered “Merry Christmas, Jim.” Now satisfied he went back to his quarters to meditate.

The next morning he pointedly ignored suspicious eyes that seemed to follow his every move.

 

 _Third Christmas Aboard the Enterprise_

Spock had observed this past year that the captain had taken it upon himself to begin touching him with increasing frequency. At first Spock had brushed it off as an accident. The captain was a very tactile person and it was possible that the man forgot the Vulcans’ aversion to casual physical contact, but as it kept on happening, Spock became more sure that the touches were in no way accidental, but had a purpose behind them.

During their chess games Jim’s leg would often rub against his, and on the bridge the captain took to walking around which often led to light brushes as he strolled past. Even in the mess hall they’d often reach for the same piece of food and their fingers would meet. The first time it had happened, Spock had practically run from the room. He did not know what to make of them, but he began to anticipate them, growing tense if he did not receive even the lightest brush. He wondered if this was what an addiction felt like, because the man seemed to consume his thoughts and even his meditations were unable to help rid him of the phantom sensations lingering on his skin.

It was probably this preoccupation that had led him to his current situation, he surmised. He hadn’t known when he was offered the drink what it was, hadn’t been told until after he’d finished it off. It had been quite tasty, so when he inquired the drink’s name so he could partake in another, the world tipped and his eyes widened as the words “hot chocolate” met his ears.

He made a hasty retreat, and feeling oddly detached, he found himself standing in front of the captain’s quarter’s wondering how he had gotten there. Before he made any move to query the occupancy of the room, the door opened to reveal the captain holding a familiar, heavy blanket. The man’s eyes went wide – he obviously hadn’t expected to see anyone standing outside his door.

“Spock! What are you doing here? You look…” The captain paused and frowned as he pondered how to describe Spock’s appearance. “Actually you look a bit piqued? You’re rather flushed. Come in, take a seat. Are you alright?” Jim’s finger’s clasped with Spock’s own, and promptly dragged the startled Vulcan towards the couch. He allowed himself to be led as his thoughts were focused entirely on the intimate sensation of skin against skin but also colored by an odd sense of guilt over how affected he was by a touch of which his captain couldn’t know the ramifications.

As he sat down on the couch Jim let go of his hand though his fingers lingered longer than strictly necessary. And when those fingers finally left his skin he felt oddly bereft at their absence.

Jim placed the blanket on the armrest revealing a bottle of alcohol that he’d hidden under it. Looking slightly sheepish, he set the bottle on the table before taking a seat next to Spock. “You never answered my questions. You’re not yourself and that worries me.”

“Hot chocolate, and I am unsure.”

Jim looked confused at the statement.

“They are the answers to your questions. I drank hot chocolate and am unsure if I am ‘alright.’

Jim just gaped at him. “Hot chocolate!? Why?! Are you crazy? Do you know the damage a drunken Vulcan can do?”

Spock couldn’t fight the blush that he knew spread across his features. “I did not know what the drink was until after I had finished. And never having had tasted the substance before, I had no way of knowing what it was. I should have been more observant, but lately I have found myself to be…” Spock glanced away, “preoccupied.”

The captain looked slightly worried, but of course he would be worried about anything that affected the running of his ship or so Spock rationalized.

“Preoccupied? With what?”

Before Spock could stop it the word slipped out. “You.”

Spock abruptly stood and stiffly walked towards the door with every intention of exiting the room and getting this drug out of his system before he revealed more than he wanted to, but it was already too late.

Like a dog with a bone Jim wasn’t going to let this go so easily, and catching Spock’s wrist he tried to spin him around. He was surprised when suddenly, instead of _him_ pulling _Spock_ , it was _Spock_ pulling _him_ as his First Officer yanked his wrist from Jim’s grasp. This display of strength shouldn’t have surprised him as he’d seen it in action many times, as well as up close and personal, but time tended to make one forget these things.

Much more shocking though was the snarl twisting Spock’s face as he practically hissed , “Desist in taking liberties with my person.”

Jim jerked back as if slapped. “What!?”

“For months you’ve been touching me. You know that Vulcans are touch-telepaths. I can feel what you want and every touch is a tease. You will either stop your mockery or you will begin courting me properly!” Spock wasn’t sure how he kept his voice calm, when inside he was screaming at himself to shut up, calculating the odds of this ending favorably as extremely low.

Kirk’s eyes, already wide in shock, seemed to widen impossibly more, and Spock absently noted that he was doing an impressive imitation of a fish. “Courting?!”

“Do you not know the definition? Your physical exploits are generally known, but I never took into consideration your lack of experience in matters of romantic pursuits. Do you need an explanation?”

“What? No! I’m fine. I know the meaning. No explanation needed! You want me to court you!?” The shock was clearly evident in Jim’s voice.

“Yes.” Spock answered simply.

“Oookaaaaay,” Jim drawled. “What exactly does courting a Vulcan entail?”

Spock just raised a brow. “Much the same as it would a human. First we get to know each other to determine if we are compatible.”

“And if we are?”

“We shall just have to wait and see, shall we not?”

Jim was shocked by the teasing and missed the fact that Spock was leaving until he heard the whispered “Merry Christmas, Jim” followed by the hiss of the door.

Kirk wondered if maybe, just maybe, Christmas wasn’t so bad after all.

 

 _Fourth Christmas Aboard the Enterprise_

Jim couldn’t believe that another year had passed, couldn’t believe that so much had changed in such a short period of time. If someone had told him even a year ago that he’d be in a happy, long-term, monogamous relationship in which he _wasn’t_ having sex, he would have laughed in their face before getting them mental help. Hell, he couldn’t believe that he was in this situation, but he wouldn’t give it up for the world. Sure, the lack of sex sucked sometimes and his right hand hadn’t seen this much action since his teenage years, and he was ever working on giving that part of his life a run for its money.

But he was content with the situation. He wanted this to be real and not rushed. He respected Spock and his boundaries, allowing things to move at his speed. It was Spock that he was beginning to worry about. The Vulcan had been strangely distant lately, and small whispers of doubt were beginning to appear more and more often in Jim’s brain.

When he entered his quarters, he was not all that shocked to find Spock waiting for him as it had become a norm. But when Spock stood from his spot on the couch and turned to face him, his expression even more serious than normal, he felt his heart sink and his stomach clenched tightly in despair.

He was slightly confused when Spock asked him to “Please stand here,” motioning towards a spot on the ground in front of him but did as requested.

He had to have faded out for a moment because he realized that Spock was talking and that he’d missed part of it.

“—trust what Doctor McCoy said.”

Spock held up his hand, palm facing Jim and folding down all of his fingers but the pointer and index fingers to resemble the old military salute of Earth

Jim didn’t understand, but then Spock used his other hand to point up, and Jim couldn’t help but laugh in startled delight. He had no idea where Spock had gotten the mistletoe, but he wasn’t about to kick a gift horse in the mouth.

Mirroring Spock, he brought their hands together and couldn’t help but feel awed at the look of rapture that crossed the Vulcan’s face, a face that many just considered to be perfectly neutral. Jim though had spent enough time studying it to know what the smallest change meant, and he knew that there was no true neutrality. He threaded their fingers together, and stepping forward, wrapped his free arm around Spock’s back, pulling them flush together. He leaned forward slowly, asking permission.

Receiving no rejection, he brushed his lips across Spock’s once, twice, and a third time. He couldn’t stop the shudder at the long awaited contact. Even though it was simple and almost chaste, it wasn’t without passion. It was beyond anything he’d ever felt.

Dropping his head to Spock’s shoulder, he just breathed in his heady scent, enjoying the closeness. Spock pulled away and Jim almost whimpered at the loss of contact.

The corner of Spock’s mouth twitched, indicating he was smiling inside. “It is late, Captain. We should head to bed.” With hands still clasped, Spock pulled him towards the bed.

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me _Jim_? Wait, what?” Jim wasn’t quite processing what was going on until he saw that Spock was reaching down to untie his shoes and then pulled off his uniform shirt. Spock straightened up and sent him a look that clearly said ‘Well? What are you waiting for?’ Taking the hint, Jim also removed the same.

“Since my body temperature is higher than yours it would be pertinent to wear less.”

Jim fought the bubble of near hysterical laughter that welled up at the way that Spock practically ordered him to strip, but he wasn’t about to argue. Stripped to his shorts he climbed into bed and Spock quickly followed, pulling him closer while ordering, “Lights 5%” then whispered, “Merry Christmas, t'hy'la”

“Merry Christmas, Spock.” Pause. “Spock?”

“Yes, Jim.”

“What does t'hy'la mean?”

There was another pause. “It means you are mine, and I am yours.”

“Okay”

Yes, Christmas was definitely a good thing.

 

 _Fifth Christmas Aboard the Enterprise_

Jim couldn’t believe that five years had passed so fast, that so much had happened in that time. Oddly enough, he wasn’t looking forward to the three months leave he had while Starfleet did maintenance on the Enterprise. It may seem strange, but she had become his home, and he couldn’t imagine being comfortable anyplace else for long.

Everyone was excited, both because it was Christmas and because they were scheduled to return to Earth within the week. A few short years ago Jim would have been trying his best to make excuses to hide away from the festivities, but this year he was laughing and smiling along with everyone else. The crew knew that something had changed since that first year and they _also_ knew that Spock had something to do with it, but they weren’t about to interfere with something that was obviously working. Their captain was happy, and that made _them_ happy in turn.

Jim had let the rest of the bridge crew go early while he finished up a few things. Knowing that they were all excited about the party planned for the night, he wanted to give them enough time to get ready. Spock had left with the rest of the crew, but not before giving him such a heated look that he had had to fight the flush that had threatened to spill across his cheeks. For weeks now Spock had been watching him with such intensity, almost devouring him with his eyes. He expected the man to jump his bones anytime, but so far, had remained just a dream.

Inputting the last of autopilot commands, he followed the crew’s example and returned to his quarters to get ready and was greeted by the increased temperature that he’d taken to using since Spock had started to stay over. It was easy enough to deal with the increased temperature. Removing a few layers of clothing was was worth seeing the way Spock looked at him.

Entering his quarters, he took note of the Vulcan scrolls on the walls and the meditation mat on the floor, things that should be so foreign but that he now no longer could imagine doing without. Draped across the back of the couch was the heavy blanket that he’d woken to find wrapped around himself his second Christmas on the ship. For the longest time, he’d been convinced that it was McCoy that had been the one to give it to him. But upon voicing his thoughts to Spock, the Vulcan had visibly flushed as he admitted to having been the one to give it to him. Learning that he was very happy he’d decided to keep the blanket.

The lights were lower than he remembered having set them before he had left, but he figured that Spock had come back before he had gone to join the party. Stripping out of his clothes he made his way towards the shower, never noticing the Vulcan crouched in the shadowed corner.

After a quick sonic shower he left the bathroom intent on dressing for the party, only to freeze at the unexpected sight that met him. The lights were set to high, but that wasn’t what drew his attention. No, the focus of his awareness was sprawled across his bed in a scene that could have easily been from any male skin rag he’d ever seen. There, lounging on his bed like some king waiting to be served, was Spock, flushed a startling shade of green while palming his cock and looking more feral than Jim had ever thought was possible.

Jim knew he should be doing something, knew he should be moving, but all the blood in his brain seemed to have fled south causing his cock to harden so fast that it hurt and drew an unbidden moan to rise from his throat.

Spock’s words definitely weren’t what he expected and tore a laugh from him. “Merry Christmas, t'hy'la.”

Jim couldn’t help the babble of words that escaped him. “This isn’t a onetime thing is it? A once a year, only because it’s Christmas thing? I don’t think I could survive if it was.”

Spock moved startlingly fast, pulling them tightly together, rubbing in all the right places. “Jim.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up?”

“O—” Spock’s lips slanted across his, effectively shutting him up for the moment. It would turn out to be the only moment of that night that Jim was quiet.

 

 _The Next Morning_

McCoy had been surprised that Jim hadn’t been at the party last night, but having noticed that a certain pointy-eared Vulcan was also missing, he took an educated guess as to why.

He questioned his intelligence for entering the captain’s quarters without invitation but did it anyway. He wasn’t all that surprised to see a naked (if the glimpses of skin not covered by the sheet was anything to go by) Spock and Jim in bed together, or the fact that Spock was awake and staring back at him.

McCoy grinned, “It’s about damned time.”

Spock stared pointedly at the faded package in the doctor’s hands. “You have faith that I will be able to stop the captain from running when you present him with your gift?”

The doctor just shrugged. “I have faith that he won’t run _because_ of _you_. Let him sleep. It’s waited all these years. It’ll keep another year.”

With that McCoy took his leave, and Jim stirred at the sound of the door closing. “Hmm, what was that?”

“Nothing, t'hy'la. Go back to sleep.”

“Mmhh, okay.” Jim snuggled closer.

Spock couldn’t help but tighten his embrace. Looking down at the marks he had left on his captain’s body, he felt oddly satisfied. Maybe there was something to Christmas after all.


End file.
